Clark Kent, Good Boy
by DecimatedOddity
Summary: In which Clark helps his father with all of the things Martha won't.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story contains incest (not really considering Jonathan isn't his _real_ father) and pedophilia. **

* * *

Moonlight peeped through the slim parting between a pair of frilly curtains, casting a thin line of glowing light across a small boy sleeping soundly in his tiny bed. He laid comfortably curled up warm and snug under a thick blanket with a small smile on his young face, the product of his pleasant dreams. The drowsy boy had been tenderly tucked in by his loving mother after having a long tiring day fishing with his father—exciting and enjoyable, but exhausting all the same. Yet no amount exhaustion can outweigh a young child's tiny bladder.

Little Clark Kent's eyes fluttered open from the strong need to relieve himself. Initially confused to be waking in the middle of the night, Clark yawned deeply and rolled over, balling up more snuggly for sleep to reclaim him. But the steadily growing pressure in his lower abdomen demanded his attention. Yawning once more, the young boy quietly vacated the warmth of his cozy bed, taking a small moment to release an almost involuntary stretch before drifting off to the bathroom in a sleepy haze.

He silently shuffled down the hallway in his comfy power ranger pajamas, the moonlight shining through the hallway's windows guiding his way. The small boy dug the sleep from his eyes with his tiny knuckles and after arriving in the bathroom, he chose not to bother with the light switch he still struggled to reach. Instead of balancing himself on his toes, he simply left the door completely ajar, letting the light from the hall push away the darkness, just enough for him to handle his business.

Because a lady lived in the house, Clark lifted the toilet seat like his father had taught him and pushed his pajama bottoms down under his cute little boy backside. He then released the urine from himself, taking pleasure in the relief that followed. It was short. And it was relatively quiet, his small stream of pale yellow liquid making practically no sound in the toilet water. Forgetting to flush, Clark clumsily tucked himself back in and made his way back to his bedroom.

"...and I _still_ can't get you to try it?" The familiar sound of his father's voice gently flowed down the hall, halting Clark on his way back to bed. Little Clark new that big people needed sleep too. Why was his father up in the middle of the night?

"I'm _sorry_ , I _really_ am," his mother's light voice trailed behind his father's, "but the _thought_ of it just…. it makes my stomach turn…" Clark's little eyebrows almost touched themselves in confusion, and he curiously, almost unintentionally drifted further down the hall.

"Come on, Martha..." Jonathan cajoled sweetly. "Just this _once._ How about if I do you first? Hmm? Here… roll over for me."

"No, Jonathan," Clark heard Martha respond softly. "I don't want you to do anything I won't ret— _mngh…_ oh _my.._." Her sentence was cut short by a noise that Clark related to biting into a juicy burger on an empty stomach. Yet it was somehow… _different…_ Clark had never heard his mother emit a sound quite like _that_ before. The pleasurable moan only strengthened Clark's confusion. Their conversation made no sense to the young boy.

 _How about if I do you first?_ his father had asked. What was he doing that elicited such a unique sound from his mother? Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Clark gently, ever _so_ gently, turned their handle and cracked the door, peering in. He simply _had_ to see. He _had_ to know what was going on.

Clark's little eyes fell out of his head. Both his father and his mother had seen Clark naked several times. But Clark had never witnessed his parents that way. _Ever._ He'd seen his father shirtless a few times while he worked in the fields, but never completely nude. Yet there they both were, naked as a pig in their big grownup bed. Clark's eyes gazed over his mother's naked body, lying there on her back, her breast and slender form exposed to the room. His father was knelt between her legs, his strong back visible and his mouth on her… on her private parts!

Clark was _astounded_. His father licked and lapped at her, creating wet sucking sounds. He stuck his tongue inside of her, like he was doing the most normal thing in the world. He gently ran his large hands up her trim stomach while he—Clark couldn't think of another word for it— _ate_ her private parts. His mother appeared to be in pain and she squirmed in the bed, writhing as if Clark's father was hurting her. But the sounds she emitted were completely contradictory and she locked her fingers in her husband's hair, pulling him closer as if she wanted him to continue and _none of it made sense._

Clark was frozen. He couldn't tear his young eyes away; he didn't dare _breathe_ too hard as he stood there silently with wide eyes, spying on his parents' strange interaction, watching his father eat at his mother, making her soft moans grow higher and higher in pitch and—and Clark was almost _certain_ that his father was hurting her now, even though she still didn't released his head. Her moans didn't sound like good moans anymore. They sounded strained and labored. Clark had almost decided to rush into the room and help her, when she tensed, emitting one final muffled scream… and gently relaxed. Just like that, it was all over.

Clark was wide awake by now. What on Earth…? _What just happened?_

"Oh my God, Jonathan…" His mother heaved heavy sighs, smiling down at his father. "That was amazing…"

"My turn?" Jonathan asked, smiling up at his wife in return.

"I don't know, Jonathan," she responded tentatively, glaring down at him with a face to match her tone.

"Come on, Martha," Jonathan repeated, sounding almost like Clark did when he was asking to stay up late. Why was his father so adamantly begging for his mother to do something she clearly didn't want to do? "It wasn't so bad from _my_ end." He kissed his way up her body while she spoke.

"I didn't _ask_ you to do that. You _offered_ and I never agreed to anything," she countered, though it sounded as if her defenses were wavering. "Besides, it's not the same."

"Why isn't it the same?" Jonathan mumbled, lying atop her and kissing into her neck now. "I let you climax in my mouth and everything…"

Clark watched his mother lie there silently for a second, obviously torn between her decision, while her husband kissed at her neck. Clark thought that he should really go back to his room, because the more he watched the more confused he became. The way his father was lying on top of her, though Clark couldn't see it, he knew that their privates had to be… _touching…_ and that was… _okay?_

" _Fine…_ " Martha sighed. "I'll _try_ it…" Clark's father was lying on his back next to Martha so quickly Clark barely saw him move. The man laid there, smiling at his wife like Clark did on Christmas.

And for the first time, Clark got a clear view of his father's penis. It was darker and—and… Clark pulled his pajama bottoms forward peering at his own penis. Compared to his, his father's penis was so _large_ … and it was _stiff_ and _straight…_ Clark had so many questions his brain felt like it might explode from the pressure of containing them all.

When he looked up again, his mother had crawled in between his father's legs, much like he had been between hers. She raked her long hair over her shoulder inadvertently giving Clark a blatant view of the proceedings. She gripped the large appendage in one hand, looking down at it stoically. She wasn't—she wasn't going to put it in her _mouth?_ Was she? She was going to eat it…? Like his father had done her?

Clark watched on fascinated as indeed, after stroking it a few times, she lowered her head and timidly suck the tip of her husband into her mouth. Jonathan's eyes fluttered closed and he released a deep exhale, his hands twisting in the sheets. But instead of eating it like he was expecting her to do, Clark saw his mother's head go lower and lower, taking more and more of the long penis into her mouth until—

She abruptly popped off of it, her poker face gone. She looked as if she'd found something distinctly unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan. I feel _terrible_ but I just _can't.._."

Jonathan deflated like a punctured balloon. His disappointment was as obvious as her disgust and she wiped the slob from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"It's alright, sweetheart." With a look of dismay, his father nodded and stroked her face affectionately. Then he forced a smile. "Now I can't say that you never tried."

"You just lie there and I'll do all the work, okay?" she whispered, as if that somehow made up for letting him down. If his mother felt so bad about not doing it, why didn't she just _do_ it? Putting a penis in your mouth couldn't be that bad, could it?

Instead, she straddled his father's waist and Clark watched the stiff appenaged slowly disappear inside of her, that same pained expression from before returning to her face. She lifted herself up again—Clark could see that his father's penis was wet and shiny now, that _had_ to be from his mother's spit, right?—to simply drop herself back down on her husband. Over and over she did this, picking up the pace until she made the same quiet pleasurable moans as before.

Clark's father made similar sounds as well this time. He even said, "Oh fuck," a word Clark had never heard before. His father's face was contorted painfully just like his mother's and Clark could hear their skin slapping together and— _what was happening?_ It was _baffling_. The strange… _whatever_ they were doing went on for several minutes, monotonous lifting and dropping, moaning and creaking until once again, his mother tensed and trembled.

The both of them released strangled cries and, with eyes filled with so many different emotions, Clark watched his mother pee on his father. _What?_ Okay this was just _crazy!_ Then she lifted herself off of her husband, his glistening, softening penis flopping out of her, and she cuddled up in front him, her eyes closed, seeming to already be drifting off to sleep.

"I love you, Martha," his father whispered into her ear. Her eyes still closed, his mother sighed and smiled a warm smile, as if those words were what she lived for.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He pulled the sheets over them and gently wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling the woman close.

It was then that Clark looked up at his father's face, and found two soft orbs boring into own. Clark's tiny little stomach leapt into his throat, and his breath froze in his chest. For a small moment, they simply stared at each other, Jonathan's face placid and Clark's terrified. Neither of them moved; neither of them said anything. Then Clark silently closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan didn't tell his wife that their son had caught them. Partly because he knew she wouldn't handle it well. She would probably panic and say that they weren't good parents and Jonathan would have to console her and just… _no_. He loved her too much to put her through the stress. But mostly he didn't mention anything because he wasn't exactly sure how much Clark had _seen._ He'd only looked up and found his son peeping through the door after it was all over.

His son was still so _young._ Surly it wasn't time for _that_ talk already? The boy stood as tall as Jonathan's waist, even when he wore his little boots. No. Clark wasn't ready for that awkward conversation and neither was Jonathan.

When Martha woke their son for breakfast the next morning, Jonathan deduced that Clark hadn't seen much. The boy was the little ray of sunshine he always was, maybe a little groggy for obvious reasons, but after getting a bit of food and some apple juice into him, he was wide awake. It was almost as if Jonathan had imagined seeing the boy in his bedroom door. Jonathan would have been able to believe this had his son not been so timid whenever around him. At first, he practically tiptoed whenever they were near each other, but after realizing that he wasn't being chastised for anything, Clark had relaxed before Martha could notice that anything was amiss.

Jonathan had then resolutely decided to remain silent. He wouldn't say anything to anyone about anything. No one was hurting and no one was crying. Clark was fine, Martha was fine, _he_ was fine, it was _fine._ Therefore, there was no need to stir up dust. If and when his son asked questions, Jonathan would do his best to answer them.

It was a few days later when those questions came in a disorienting flurry and Jonathan discovered _precisely_ how much his son saw. He'd just finished a steamy shower and was shaving in the bathroom mirror, his damp towel hanging around his neck to catch the extra cream, when Clark strolled into the bathroom on him and all of his naked glory.

Initially, his young son stood frozen in the doorway, staring. Jonathan could remember seeing _his_ father naked for the first time and knew that as a young boy, seeing an adult man with all of his adult parts… it was a lot to take in. So for a second, he simply stood there, letting Clark gaze over his suntanned body, taut from working hard on a farm since adolescence. He let his son look at his strong arms, his broad shoulders, and wide chest. Jonathan watched the boy's eyes rake down his firm stomach, over his muscled ass, and around to where the little orbs settled on his hanging cock.

"Can I help you, Clark?" Jonathan asked, amused by his son's shock. Clark's eyes broke away from his penis and peered up at him instead.

He stammered a response. "Huh..? Oh… I had to pee but—but I can go outside—"

"It's alright, son," Jonathan smiled down at him. "Use the bathroom. I don't mind."

"Umm… okay…" Jonathan returned his focus to his chin in the mirror and Clark stumbled in awkwardly, closing the door behind him and stepping over to the toilet. From the corner of his eye Jonathan could see the boy peering between their penises, comparing them and he continued to allow his curious son to look. He knew that his body was the perfect specimen for Clark to study and that it was normal for a young boy to be curious about the adult male form. He may have been a little worried if Clark _hadn't_ been curious. As it turned out, he was a little _too_ curious. Curious enough to _touch_ , which Jonathan was startled to find his son had just done.

When he felt the small fingers wrap around his head, the warm touch making him stiffen slightly, he gasped a sharp startled breath and almost instinctively jerked away. He had to remind himself that he was holding a straight razor to his face and could therefore easily slice his cheek open. So he froze instead, slowly and safely pulling the blade away and lying it in the sink, then looking down at his son sternly. But before he could speak, before he could scold his son and tell him he _couldn't do that,_ the boy's light young voice rang out softly in the room.

"Why is it getting hard?" Clark asked curiously, studying the penis in his small hand with glued eyes. Jonathan looked down at the intrusive fingers, barely able to fit around his girth, and reached to remove them.

"Son, you can't—" But Clark chose that moment to give his cock head an experimental squeeze, cutting his sentence in half, making him hiss and clutch at the counter instead. It was his _son_ touching him. That shouldn't have felt so good. His cock hardened the rest of the way in Clark's curious hand. The boy's brows almost touched each other, his little head tilting to the side quizzically.

Jonathan was reaching for the boy's hand yet again, a little more ardently this time, when his son gently stroked him in his tiny warm palm, eliciting a moan from the man, and making him clutch at the counter again, instinctively pumping into the hand. Jonathan's eyes fluttered closed and his head tilted back. He moaned a deeper moan, thrusting his hips forward into the stroking hand.

"Oh _fuck…_ " he mumbled, the pleasure pulling the expletive from his lips. It felt _wonderful_ , standing there in the bathroom, pumping into his son's—Jonathan was fucking his son's hand. He was _fucking his son's hand_. With wide eyes, Jonathan forced himself to stop after realizing what he was doing. Clark didn't however; he continued to ignorantly caress his father.

"You made that sound the other night when Mommy did this," Clark said quizzically. "When you wanted her to put it her mouth. Why would you want that? Would you like for me to put it in _my_ mouth?" he asked casually, as if they were working in the barn and he'd simply asked his father if he wanted a glass of water. "Mommy wouldn't do it for you but _I_ will. It's really _big_ but I'm sure I could make it fit."

Jonathan blanched. The boy didn't even know what he was _offering._ He wasn't even aware of how _lewd_ that sounded. Even so, images of the Clark's little mouth on his large cock inadvertently filled Jonathan's brain and the thought that even though it would be his _son_ doing it, it would still feel _good_ , just like his hand did, made Jonathan fully come to his senses. His _young son_ was touching him and he was _ashamed_ of himself for letting things get that far.

"Stop it!" he snapped angrily, making the hand instantly retract. "You can't _do_ that, Clark!" The boy looked up at him wide fearful eyes and Jonathan immediately felt terrible for reprimanding him. The boy didn't understand that what he'd done was wrong. He didn't understand that children shouldn't do those things, shouldn't have seen what he'd seen.

Jonathan knew that what had just happened was all his fault. Had he simply talked with his son like he should have in the first place, none of this would have happened. He sighed and knelt down on one knee, becoming eye level with his son. He placed affectionate hands on the boy's little shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Clark mumbled, dropping his chin in shame.

"No, _Daddy's_ sorry for snapping," he said consolingly. "But it's _very_ _bad_ for a child to touch a grown up like that, especially their father."

"I didn't know…" Clark responded, almost in tears.

"I _know_ you didn't, son." He wanted to pull Clark into a hug. But that would press his still straining erection into the boy and… _no…_ "I can't explain what Mommy and I were doing just yet, but I need you know that we love each other very much." Clark looked up at his father through his dark lashes and nodded despondently.

"And Clark?" Jonathan gave his son a kind but still stern expression. "I need you to be a good boy for Daddy and not tell Mommy about what you did—" ... _about what_ I _did,_ "—about how you touched me." ... _about how I fucked your hand._ "She wouldn't like that very much. Okay?" Clark nodded again.

Jonathan smiled fondly. "Alright, son. How about you let Daddy finished shaving—" _I need you to leave so I can deal with the erection you left me with. "—_ and then I'll take you out for some ice cream. How's that sound?"

Clark immediately perked up at the mention of treats. "That's sounds great!"

"Alright, then. Run along outside and play until I'm done."

"Yes, sir!" And the little boy dashed away, leaving Jonathan naked and alone in the bathroom again. His smile fell from his face as he sighed a heavy breath, completely failing to release so many different emotions. Disgust, humiliation, shame… He fumbled around under the sink for some of his wife's lotion, rising up from his crouch and settling in on the toilet when he found it.

He spread his legs, giving his balls room to breathe and set a steady pace on the long rod with his lotioned palm. He closed his eyes, moving swift and efficiently. There was no time to wallow in the pleasure; that wasn't what the session was for anyway. He simply needed the erection to go away as quickly as possible. He let images of his beautiful wife's naked body fill his mind and he smiled. Sometimes he still wondered what he'd done to deserve such a wonderful woman.

Due to years of experience, Jonathan knew how to sustain himself, how make a sexual encounter last. And for the same reason, he also knew how to make one fast. He knew how to touch himself. He knew when and how to move his hand, how to turn it, which angle to use. So it didn't take long for his climax to approach. He was climbing his mountain with thoughts of his wife's wet and warm center at the front of his mind. He fought his moans, only letting little sharp exhales escape him as he trembled on the—

 _Mommy wouldn't do it for you but_ I _will._ Jonathan burst his heavy load to images of his son sucking his dick.


	3. Chapter 3

Clark Kent was a good son. Or at least he tried to be. Because he knew that his parents loved him as much he loved them; they would never intentionally do anything to hurt him. So whenever his parents asked something of him, he did it without question, even if sometimes they asked for things that didn't make sense.

Like eating his vegetables. His mother _insisted_ that he eat those disgusting things but for what reason? Clark didn't understand it at all but still, he was an obedient child. It was a very similar occasion when maybe a week later Jonathan asked to put his penis in his son's mouth. Clark still didn't understand why his father would want that, but because Clark was an obedient child, he'd crawled between his father legs and put the appendage in his mouth.

They were on another trip together when it happened. Clark had been looking forward to it since his father had told him about it. Camping! They'd never done that before! They would actually _sleep outside?_ When the upcoming Saturday finally arrived, Clark had zipped down the stairs and had the tent, sleeping bags, fishing rods, and tackle box in the bed of the truck, and was standing next to it beaming estactically before his father could even get outside. The boy had barely been able to keep still in the passenger seat as they drove away from Smallville.

No hammers were required when Clark helped his father pitch the tent. As far as the boy had shoved the pegs into the ground, a typhoon wouldn't be able to rip it away. They'd sat on a large boulder near the water's edge and fished for their meals in the warm summer air. His father had taught him how start a fire by simply using sticks. The boy had watched in fascination as the man expertly nursed the flames to life, until there was a small toasty blaze before them.

Clark had watched his father slice open the fish. He'd watched and learned how remove its entrails, how to prepare it for eating. Clark hadn't known that you can cook food by putting it on a stick and hanging it over fire. It had been a fascinating experience, watching the fillet toast before his eyes. Then Clark had roasted marshmallows with his father and he'd been introduced to a new delicious treat called _s'mores._

As darkness fell and the stars began to appear, his father laid Clark out on his back and pointed constellations out to him. The only ones the boy thought made any sense was the big and little dipper, because those were the only two that actually looked like what they were said to be. But Leo? Clark simply couldn't comprehend how those jumbled stars were supposed to make a lion. And in his personal opinion, the weighing scales looked more like a house. His father had laughed his deep booming laugh, and agreed that he thought the scales looked like a house too.

By the time they crawled into the tent, Clark was thoroughly amazed by his father. How could the man know so much? He knew how to shave, how to farm, how to drive, how to fix things, how to milk a cow. He knew how to fish, how to _clean_ the fish, how to pitch a tent, how to start a fire with _sticks…_ And he even knew about _space!_ How cool was that? Clark still struggled to remember his left from his right. The little boy lay quietly next to his father in the small tent, smiling at the man in awe.

"Son," Jonathan chuckled. "You're looking at me like I just saved Zion."

"You're just so…" The boy rolled over on his side and propped up on his little elbow. "It's like you know how to do _everything._ " The admiration was clear in his tone. It was like the sun in a cloudless blue sky.

His father chuckled again. "When you become my age, you'll know how to do a lot things too."

"I hope so. I'd _love_ to be as cool as you are."

"I'm sure that you _will_ be." His father smiled over at him fondly. "You have a really pretty mouth, son," he spoke softly, trailing his thumb across the boy's plump lower lip. "You wanna do something nice for Daddy?"

"I'll do _anything_ for you," the boy responded, his tone so sincere it couldn't be mistaken.

"How about you wrap these petty lips around Daddy's penis?"

Clark looked up at his father curiously. "Like Mommy did?"

His father nodded slowly. "Just like Mommy did. But you're not gonna stop until it's time to. Okay?"

Clark's brows furrowed together. "But you said it was _bad_ for a child to touch a grownup like that…"

"I know I said that," his father responded softly, "but it's okay. It's different now because I _want_ you to do it. You'll be being a really good boy if you put your mouth on Daddy."

Clark wanted to be a good boy. His father loved him and fed him and cared for him. And he'd brought him on this _wonderful_ trip. Clark wanted to be an obedient son for him. So the small boy smiled. "Okay, Daddy." He gently climbed between his father's legs just like his mother had and waited patiently. He waited as his father slowly unbuckled his pants, slid the zipper down, and lifted his hips to pull the jeans down his thighs and Clark watched the now familiar penis stiffly spring free of its confines.

"This is gonna be our little secret, okay?" his father said fondly, stroking an affectionate hand though the boy's hair.

"Yes, sir," he answered, assuring the man. "I promise I won't tell _any_ body _any_ thing."

"Good boy." His father smiled and leaned back, propping himself up on his hands and smiled down at him. The large hard appendage stood proud, pointing towards the roof of the tent. "First, I want you to lick it, like it's a lollipop. Lick it all over, son."

Clark leaned forward and languidly licked at his father, just like it was candy and the man emitted a soft exhale.

"Yeah… just like that, son. You're such a good boy." Clark smiled up at his father while he licked him all over, getting the penis wet and shiny with his saliva. Though he was curious about why it throbbed and pulsed under his tongue and wanted to ask about, he ignored the questions and licked on. He liked being a good boy for his father and wanted to hear the words again.

"Now wrap your lips around your teeth like this," his father prompted, demonstrating. "Yeah, just like that. Now put the tip of it your mouth."

Clark stretched his little lips as wide as could with them wrapped around his teeth the way were and complied obediently, putting his father's plump head in his mouth. He then looked up at the man through thick lashes for further instructions.

"Okay, son," his father said, encouragingly. "Now here's the hard part." There was a _hard_ part? Clark could do it. Whatever it was he would give it his best shot. "Push your head down and try to take as _much_ in as you can. Do it _really slowly,_ " he emphasized. "If you go too fast you might hurt yourself."

Clark looked down at the penis. It looked so _big..._ and _long._ But he slowly pushed his head down as he been told, taking bits of the large appendage into his mouth where it stretched him into a perfect circle. His father sucked a sharp breath through his teeth and Clark saw his lip curl a bit.

"That's it, son. Keep going. Open your throat for Daddy. _Mmngh…_ You're doing so good… Okay stop," he said abruptly, making Clark freeze in place. "We don't want you to gag. We'll work on you going deeper next time." Next time? From the way his father was smiling down at him, Clark knew he had to be doing something right, and that made the boy feel good.

"Good boy. Now suck it," his father smiled.

Clark looked up at his father quizzically, breathing through his nose with his mouth around the penis. Suck it?

"Suck it like it's a popsicle stick." Though Clark was completely baffled, he complied, but his father's deep grunt sounded so painful, it almost made him stop. Had the man not immediately voiced his approval, Clark would have.

"That's it Clark, keep going," his father said, his voice tight, as if something were caught in his throat. "Mngh… you're being such a good boy, Clark. _Such_ a good boy for Daddy. Wiggle your tongue around the bottom of it while you suck. Oh my _God,_ Clark, yes… Just like that."

One of his father's legs had begun to tremble slightly. Was that a _good_ thing? The man emitted the same moans and grunts he made in the bedroom with Clark's mother that night as Clark continued to breathe through his nose, sucking at the head of his father's penis, wiggling his tongue like a little worm around the bottom of it. And Clark didn't have to take a break because it wasn't cold like a popsicle. So he sucked a continuous, unbroken suck.

" _Mngh…_ You're a really good boy, son. You're doing a wonderful job. So good… Just a little bit longer. Daddy's close… " Close? Close to what? "Suck a little harder…" So he sucked a little harder, eliciting deeper and louder moans from his father. His leg with quaking almost violently now. "Oh God, son… Oh _God_ , _son!_ "

It was then that Clark found out what his father was close to. The boy's mind went blank when a warm liquid quite suddenly spilled into his mouth. He twisted his face in disgust as it continued to shoot out in thick spurts. Was his father _peeing in his mouth?!_ Clark sharply retracted his head in revulsion and a bit of the liquid splattered across his face, dripping onto the bed of the tent.

Looking down at it, Clark could see that… He peered at the strange liquid. It wasn't pee… it was the wrong color. And now that he paid attention; he could feel it settling in his mouth, feel it on his face… It was the wrong texture as well. Urine was fluid like water and this stuff was some kind of…. Clark had never quite experienced anything like it before. He didn't have a comparison. Snot maybe? His father had blew _snot_ from his _penis?_

But Clark had tasted his own snot before. And this stuff was… salty and bitter, yet somehow kind of _sweet_ at the same time. No… Not snot either. Whatever it was, it had come out of his father's body, and therefore Clark figured it didn't belong in his mouth. He hastily moved to lean his head out the zipper of the tent and spit it out, but his father swiftly placed an index finger over his lips with a stern expression.

"No, son. _Swallow_ it," He said firmly, as if he was attempting to get Clark to take some nasty cold medicine. _Swallow_ it…? _Why?_ Clark's young mind was so baffled. He didn't think he would _ever_ be able to understand grownups. Still, he obeyed, swallowing down the odd substance and his father's loving smile returned.

"What _was_ that?" Clark asked curiously, now that his mouth was free. He slid his tongue around for remnants of the taste. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

For a moment his father simply smiled down at him, like he was the best son in the world. And Clark smiled back, relishing in the love he was receiving. He soaked it all up like a sponge. Then Jonathan spoke softly. "Come here. Give Daddy a hug." Clark crawled up his father's body where he laid across the man's chest and wrapped thin little arms around a strong neck, a bit awkwardly because they were lying down. But Jonathan tucked his son's little head under his chin all the same and ran his fingers through the boy's hair with a content smile on his face.

"That's was your reward for being a good boy," he whispered.

Clark laid there, feeling his father's strong, steady heartbeat against his chest while he let those words sink in. If _that_ was the case… Clark guessed that he liked the strange liquid, _whatever_ it was. A warm smile slowly spread across the young boy's face.

"And son?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Next time, when I'm giving you your reward," he lifted Clark's head by the chin and peered into his son's eyes, "don't freeze. Keep sucking. Okay?"

Clark bunched his eyebrows together and stared back into his father's eyes. There was those two words again. Next time? There would be a next time? Whatever this was it had clearly made his father happy so Clark didn't mind doing it again. But why? What was his father getting out of it? What was the purpose? But Clark didn't ask any of those questions. He simply nodded.

"Yes, sir."

And then he was receiving that smile again, like he was the best son anyone could ask for. Jonathan tucked the little head back under his chin. "Good boy, Clark."


	4. Chapter 4

Jonathan was going to hell. He was going to hell and he knew it. The other option simply wasn't available for people like him. He lay awake in bed next to his slumbering wife after putting her to sleep with a passionate love making that had lasted for at least an hour. He lay there next her in complete shame, thinking about _why_ he'd easily performed so long.

Because he'd already had two orgasms earlier that day. He'd let his son suck him when they'd woken up in the tent that morning and he pulled over beside the road on the drive back and let him do it again. The third time, Jonathan had gotten Clark to _bob his head_ while he sucked… The man had came in less than twenty seconds.

 _Jonathan was going to hell_. He had _planned_ the insidious camping trip with his cruel intentions in mind. He'd _orchestrated_ the entire outing to get his son alone and allow the boy to please him orally. A part of him still couldn't believe he'd gone through with it. When the devilish plan had occurred to him a week ago he'd been _revolted_ by it. Yet he had _still done_ it. And he had _enjoyed_ it. What kind of father did that make him? What kind of man? It didn't matter that his son had consented. He didn't know what he was consenting to.

What Jonathan had done was a crime. If the wrong person found out about it, he would be registered as a pedophile for the rest of his life. He would lose his son, his wife, possibly his home, his farm… His entire _life_ could fall apart. And what made the deplorable situation even _worse_ … none of those terrible thoughts, none of his conflicted emotions eradicated the desperate desire to let his son to do it again.

And Jonathan did.

Later that evening, while Martha ran a load of produce over to a local grocer, he'd settled in on the sofa with his son between his legs and indulged in the pleasure of the boy's mouth on him once again.

"Mngh… _yes,_ son…" Clark was such a quick study. He'd wrapped his lips around his teeth and bobbed on Jonathan, without be being prompted. He sucked like his young life depended on it. "Good boy, Clark…"

For a second, Jonathan simply watched with hooded eyes as his son gulped a third of the dick down over and over again. Then the man's head fell back on the sofa, deep guttural moans escaping him. Clark had gotten so _good_ so _quickly._ The boy was a natural. With the pleasure impairing his judgment, Jonathan forgot why it had taken him so long to let the boy do it. He'd had Clark in his life since the child was three. Jonathan could've had a sweet mouth sucking his come out of him the entire time. Before he knew he was doing it, he had lifted his hips and pumped up into Clark's mouth a few times… and the boy gagged. He instinctively popped off of Jonathan, gasping.

"I—I'm sorry, Daddy," Clark stammered, the confusion clear on his face. "You kind of poked at something and… I don't know what happened."

"It's okay son," Jonathan responded fondly, wiping a bit of slob from the corner of the boy's mouth. "That was your gag reflex. Everybody has one. Remember when I said we'd work on going deeper?" Clark nodded, his eyebrows still almost touching each other. "Let's give it try. Okay?" The boy nodded again. "Alright, son. Relax your mouth, your jaw… relax _everything_ and go as deep as you can. Try to swallow it."

Jonathan watched in amazement, moaning as one third of his thick cock slowly turned into a half before his son gagged again and retracted, a snail trail of slob connecting his mouth to the tip of the shiny dick. Jonathan affectionately wiped it away from his mouth again.

" _Breathe…_ That was really good son," he praised, making the boy smile. "Halfway is enough." Jonathan didn't want to _hurt_ him. "Now suck it again for Daddy. And take half of it every time you go down."

Clark complied, sucking down half of Jonathan's dick over and over and—

" _Oh_ my _God_ , son…" Jonathan clawed at the cushions of the couch. He had his own personal little cocksucker, who was getting better and better all the time. He forced himself to simply to sit there and not fuck into the boy's mouth. "Clark Daddy's getting close… You ready for your reward?" The boy moaned his approvals around Jonathan's cock, and the vibrations surprisingly sent waves of pleasure straight to his tip, making the man tremble. " _Fuck,_ do that again, son. Moan around Daddy's dick. _Mmmngh fuck, yes…_ Stand up, Clark," Jonathan said abruptly.

"Hmmm?" the boy moaned around his cock.

"Stand up for Daddy," Jonathan smiled. "I'm gonna give you your reward." That confused expression returned to his little face again, but he released the stiff cock from his mouth and climbed to his feet all the same. Jonathan stood directly in front of the boy, his cock in his son's face. He looked down into Clark's eyes, watching his son gaze back up at him quizzically while he used the spit on his dick to pump himself until—

"Fuck!"

Clark flinched, emitting a little startled sound when the come splattered across his face, but he stood there and accepted it nonetheless, as bits of it flew into his mouth, his hair, and his eyes. Jonathan moaned and _hissed_ while he pumped it out of himself, with Clark standing there obediently the entire time.

"Oh _fuck_ … you're such a good boy. I love you, son." Jonathan smiled at the child's come filled face as he climbed down from his heavy orgasm. And Clark smiled back at those words, swallowing the bits of semen that had gotten into his mouth.

"I love you too, Daddy."

Despite the content and fond smile plastered across his face, the words _horrible father_ flashed across Jonathan's mine like neon lights. "Come on, son. Let's go clean you up." He tucked himself back into his pants, fervently ignoring those two words. He took the young boy by the hand and they strolled into the kitchen where Jonathan knelt before his son, wiping the come away with paper towels.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, son?"

"What's fuck?"

Jonathan chuckled. He deserved that and he knew it. A small part of him felt the need to scold his son. But after everything he'd put the boy through, the least he could do was give him some answers. "This is something else that stays between us, okay?" he said firmly, wiping the last bits of his come from the boy's face.

Clark nodded ardently. "Yes, sir."

"Fuck is a word that grownups use," he explained, looking into his son's eyes. "It's the name of the other thing you saw Mommy and I doing that night."

"You mean when you put your penis inside of her?"

Jonathan fought the flush that wanted to creep into his face. "Yes, that's right son."

"So you and Mommy were fucking?"

Jonathan couldn't fight the flush that time. "The proper word is sex. Mommy and I were having sex."

Clark nodded at that, letting it sink in and then fired his next question. "Dick is a grownup word too, isn't it? It's the word grownups use for penis, because you said, 'Moan around Daddy's dick.' "

Children caught _everything._ "Yes. You're a really smart boy, son." Clark was on a roll. He was finally getting answers and he let the questions fly.

"How many grownup words are there?"

"A lot," Jonathan answered. "We'll go over them some other time." Because reciting a list of derogatory words with his son was just… _no._

"Why do you keep having me suck you? I don't mind doing it, but... what's the point?"

"Because it feels really good," Jonathan answered. He figured that he would have to find a point to stop Clark or the interrogation could go on for a _while._

"But if it feels good, why do you always look and sound like you're in pain?" The tone of the boy's voice seemed to hold _all_ of the confusion that question had been giving him.

"Because… because..." But Jonathan found himself at a pause. He honestly didn't know. What was it about sex that made people squirm? He took a moment to find the right words. "Sometimes… things feel so nice... they make you…" But he found himself stuck again. He sighed in defeat. "It doesn't make any sense, but sometimes things feel so good they look like they hurt. Daddy doesn't know why."

Clark frowned so deeply his brows looked like one line. "But you know _everything._ " The look on his son's face, the fact that he _actually believed_ that statement, made Jonathan's day. He couldn't have fought the chuckle that escaped even if he'd wanted to.

"It may seem like I do," he responded smiling warmly. "But I promise you, I don't."

Clark paused again, and Jonathan was about to take that opportunity to offer him a sweet, the subject changer that worked every time when—

"Can you show me?" Clark asked.

Jonathan blank a few times. "Come again?" Was his son asking him to suck his dick?

"If you suck me, I'll know what it feels like and I'll understand." He said it as if there was a long list of solutions and his was simplest.

Yes. His son was asking to get his dick sucked. Well wasn't that a turn of events? Jonathan couldn't _do_ that. The boy was so _young._ He was only _just_ tall enough to stand in front of the toilet. Would it even _feel_ the same for him? He knew that the boy couldn't ejaculate, but… could he still orgasm?

"I'm sorry Clark, but Daddy can't do that."

"Why?" The boy was so obviously confused. Jonathan sighed again and searched for the proper words to explain that a man just _couldn't touch a little boy_ _like that._ This is where he should've put his foot down and put a stop to the madness he'd ensued. But he didn't. Instead, he sighed in defeat.

"Okay, son. Take your pants off."

Clark beamed in excitement and kicked his little shoes to the side. A part of Jonathan couldn't believe what he'd just agreed to as he watch the boy chipperly shimmy out of his jeans and kick them to the side as well. Then his son smiled up at him, naked from the waste down, practically trembling in anticipation. And Jonathan simply _had_ to smile back. He lifted the ecstatic boy up an sat his bare ass on the counter, where the boy _still_ had to look up at him.

"Okay son. This might feel a little funny at first," he warned him, reaching down to fondle the bottom of the little cock with his index finger. Clark nodded and Jonathan could see his son's little eye already twitching from the foreign sensation. Then he watched relatively fascinated as the little penis slowly grew to a size Jonathan could compare to a baby carrot.

Clark look down at himself, gasping in amazement. " _Wow…"_ he sighed. "I'm stiff like you get Daddy."

Jonathan smiled at him in amusement. Then, to make things easier on himself, he picked the boy up and sat his son on his shoulders, making the tiny legs part around his neck, with each little foot resting against his back and leaving his face in a very lascivious position between his son's legs. Then, holding the lightweight boy in place by the bottom of his backside, and with complete awareness of what he was doing, Jonathan engulfed the entirety of the little cock into his mouth.

Clark gasped as if he'd been stabbed with a redhot pitchfork. "Oh _God! Daddy!_ " Slim arms and legs immediately wrapped around Jonathan's head and he was positive that Clark didn't realize he was doing it, but the boy _instantly_ fucked into the man's mouth. Jonathan was standing in middle of his kitchen, letting his young son fuck his mouth. What was he _doing?_

The boy's high pitched moans didn't last long. He pumped and pumped until he was screaming and trembling and even though it was dry as the sahara, there was no doubt in Jonathan's mind when it happened. He was certain that he had just sucked his son to a climax. Clark relaxed in the man's hands, panting and trembling. Then Jonathan gently sat him back on the kitchen counter where the boy beamed up at him, breathing like he'd just run a marathon, his little face as scarlet as a tomato.

"Oh my _God,_ Daddy... When can we do that again?"


	5. Chapter 5

"You have Daddy in a downward spiral, son," his father had said to him a few nights later, as they lay naked in their cornfield, their bare bodies glowing under the moon and stars. "And it's gonna leave me crashing in flames, I'm sure of it. I should stop… but I honestly don't want to anymore." Little Clark looked up at his father waiting for an explanation that never came. It was as if the man we're simply thinking out loud. Even so, though he wasn't exactly sure what it meant, Clark never forgot that statement. _You have Daddy in a downward spiral and it's going to leave me crashing in flames._

A few years later, when he was nine, he learned a new adult word: _ass._ The year following that, he found his father's fingers _inside_ of his ass while the man fondled him. Clark laid in his bed in the middle of a cloudy night, his face a deep crimson as he accepted the foreign sensation. After his father found something in there, an amazing something that Clark didn't even know existed, coupled with the man's other hand on him, the boy melted in the bed like warm butter.

A few weeks before his thirteenth birthday, instead of fingers, he found his father's dick in there. When it happened, they were on another one of Jonathan's camping trips, outings that Clark had _long_ since figured out the purpose of.

"You wanna do something nice for Daddy?" his father had asked him again. Clark knew exactly what the man wanted. He was old enough to have figured it out, old enough to understand, old enough to tell his father no. But he didn't say no. He would _never_ say no. Because he _wanted_ to give it to his father. He wanted to make the man happy.

"I'll do anything for you, Dad."

His father was gentle with him, moving slowly, only giving Clark half of his long appendage. But after accepting the sweetnothings whispered in his ear Clark was taking all of it, the entire length filled his body, though his father still graciously pumped slowly. It was unlike anything Clark had ever experienced so he had no comparison. Only one word could fill his mind. _Pain_. But he stoically wrapped his arms and legs around his father, clutching at the larger body as they grunted in each other's ear.

"Mngh… you feel so good around me, Clark," his father moaned, thrusting deeply into him. "You're so tight and warm... You're Daddy's good boy, aren't you?"

"I'm your good boy, Dad..." Clark grunted through the pain. He would accept it if that's what pleased his father. "I'll _always_ be your good boy." And he laid there, letting the man's thick girth stretch him open. He could feel every throbbing inch of it, penetrating him to his core. His father ran soft caresses over the boy's lean body while he thrusted deeper and deeper and—

" _Fuck… Dad.._ You're so fucking big… Are you happy, Dad?" Clark asked, smiling through the pain.

"Fuck, _son…_ " his father responded, the transparent pleasure undeniable on his face as he continued his sensual pace. "You make Daddy _so_ happy…"

Then it was worth it. Clark had smiled at those words, even though the dick inside him made his entire body ache. Fortunately, it hadn't lasted much longer. The boy had learned the many derogatory names for an orgasm from his adolescent peers in school. _Busting, nutting, creaming…_ But whenever his father came, Clark still liked to refer to it as his reward. When he felt the warm fluid spilling inside of him, he knew he would go through the pain all over again if it meant he would receive that wonderful sensation at the end.

And go through it again, he did. And again. And _again._ Over the next few years, he accepted his father long, thick cock over and over, in so many different places over. The barn, the bed of the truck, the corn field, his parent's bed while Martha was away visiting her father. But mostly it happened in that same tent on the banks of the same pond. And with each encounter, Clark noticed the pain slowly drifting into the background, until he was able to give all of his attention to that sweet little spot inside of him, that spot that provided him with so much pleasure. He began to _hope_ for his father to touch him whenever they were alone, _anxious_ for every encounter and _begging_ for the man to fuck him harder whenever they did.

On his 14th birthday, instead of being _told_ that they were going on a camping trip, Clark _asked_ for one. All of his first sexual experiences had happened on the banks of that pond. He had felt his father's dick deep inside him so many times next to that water. Clark felt it was the only place suitable to ask his father to return the favor.

"Dad?" he'd asked timidly, their bellies filled with fish the teen had caught, cleaned, and cook all by himself.

"Yeah, Clark?"

"You wanna do something nice for your son?" Wrapped in his new teenage voice, the words poured from his mouth like silk and he eyed the man hopefully. When his father's face broke into a small smile, Clark knew that he had chose the right words.

"I'll do anything for you, son."

Clark took his father from behind with the man on his stomach. He was so tight around Clark. Fucking him was more than the boy could have ever dreamed of.

"Dad…. Oh God, _Dad…"_ Clark lay his full weight on top of the man and pumped away. "Oh, _Dad!_ "

"Give it to Daddy, son. _Fuck…_ " Clark looked down and watched his dick disappear between two muscled cheeks, the sight of it making him seize the plump globes in his firm fist and squeeze. He was fucking his father...

When Clark climaxed, for the first time in his young life, he felt something come out. He burst his hot load so deep inside the man, and the pleasure was nothing like he'd ever experienced. He was rewarding his father… It sent waves of heat up his spine and—he terrified the both of then when he set the tent ablaze. They'd scrambled from its confines as fire rained down on them like the blazes of armageddon.

It took Clark a few weeks to get used to that new power. His father made sure they always fucked _outside_ during that transitional period so Clark could aim his fiery orbs toward the skies until he got it under control.

His father had let Clark do the fucking a few more times over the years, and as nice as it was inside of the man, Clark learned that he preferred to be the fuckee. Having his father inside of him, knowing that he was pleasing the man was enough to get Clark off every time.

When his school dance came around, it had apparently not only been a significant point in Clark's life, but for his father as well. Jonathan couldn't keep his eyes off the teen in the tux and before Clark could get Chloe to the dance, he'd found himself bent over his ship in the storm cellar with his bow tie stuffed in his mouth. And when his father won the state election, the occasion _demanded_ a celebratory fuck. They'd slipped off to the barn while everyone cheerfully sipped champagne. Having no time to do things properly, his father had simply exposed the necessary parts of their skin and bent him over the stairs. He'd pounded into Clark from behind, almost toppling them over from the force, and Clark had relished in all of it.

Later that night, when his father died he took a piece of Clark's heart with him.

So many people came to the funeral, some Clark didn't even recognize. He hadn't even know that his father had so many acquaintances. Everyone wanted to pay their respects to the wonderful man that he had been, to the model husband and father, the wonderful farmer and a valuable friend. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that would have been just as good a senator. So many good words had been said about him.

But Clark wouldn't remember his father for any of his life's achievements. Because even if he hadn't achieved them, Clark would have loved his father all the same. His dad had never been in a downward spiral. He'd simply been a man that was willing to let his love him. And Clark would _always_ love him. He would always be his father's good boy.


End file.
